


Song of the Sea

by Mooninthebox



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooninthebox/pseuds/Mooninthebox
Summary: Kai lived alone under the sea, where time stops and rewinds. Then Sehun came with a numberless clock in his hand.





	1. tides

**Author's Note:**

> It's an old Sekai fic I used to post in LJ. Reposting it here for a better archiving. It's unbetaed so please excuse any grammatical errors. Enjoy!

Inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVJxlWMy7kc) short film. I recommend to watch it first before reading.

Kai woke up as the waves knocked on his window.  
  
He sat up, squinting his eyes as he looked out of the framed glass right beside his bed. The sea had begun walking down, revealing the top of the tallest buildings, inviting lights to descend into the city. He had missed the sunrise, and that was how the sea told him the summer had just arrived. Morning always came early in summers.   
  
Through the receding water, he could vaguely see a myriad of clocks lying underneath, tucked here and there around the city. Most of it was large and ornate, and Kai smiled. When the sea had gone below the frame of his window, bringing half of the city into his sight, Kai brought himself out of bed. The times were calling to be collected.  
  
Kai was a Retriever.  
  
Or as what people of the surface called, The Man of the Sea. He lived alone under the sea, where time stops and rewinds. Everyday, when the sea retreated down to rest, emerging the city mirroring that of above, Kai would walk around, collecting the trickled clocks.  
  
The clocks were borrowed time people of the surface sent back. People of the surface had always believed there were two ways to give back the time they borrowed for their lives, as there were two ways to depart for a longer journey from Before to After.   
  
Some people were being sent back to the sky; blanketed with flowers and flames, ashes being scattered into the grip of the wind.  
  
Some others were being sent back to the sea; laid down on a wooden boat with leaves and petals poured onto them, letting the waves led the way.  
  
Every clock stopped at the time they departed. Kai would collect them all and brought it home. He’d put it in the Chamber of Chants, the only room with no roof. When the sea awakened and glided into the chamber, the clocks would be alive again, ticking backwards second by second of each life the borrowers had spent. Through the tides and waves, the time would be lent back to the surface, for another newborns to use.  
  
Every second of a clock held a story of the borrower. That’s why when you swim and dive into the sea, you might hear gentle whispers.  
  
Some of the stories ensnared into seashells and rested there until the waves brought them ashore. That’s why when you put a seashell to your ear, you might catch tender hums.  
  
Kai liked how the stories made an orchestra of tales and odes when they were gathered and revived under the touch of the sea. Every new second ticking made a new melody to the aria, one of the reasons he enjoyed retrieving every stories kept in the clocks.  
  
The sea had almost reached its place to sleep when he walked into the Library. The room was his second favorite room after The Chamber of Chants. The room resembled a wide corridor with a floor covered in a hue of coral red. One side of the wall was filled with shelves full of books, a few vinyl records and a gramophone. Sometimes Kai would indulge himself in some pieces of lives on the surface.  
  
The other wall across it was made of glass. It would show the vast view of the city in the morning, and a thick shade of blue in the night, when the sea drowning everything under its arms again. Along the glass wall, there was a long table with numerous of clocks arranged next to one another, some of his most favorite ones he decided to keep once it stopped ticking.   
  
He had put a chair in the middle of the room, facing the glass wall. Sometimes when there were not many clocks to collect and he went home early, he would sit there, relishing the quietude of the city and watched as the sea crawled up, covering the glass inch by inch until his house completely submerged, just like the rest of the vista.  
  
The sea had walked past the glass window, bringing the fishes to swim downward together, and Kai sauntered closer. He had the habit to use the glass wall as a mirror as he fixed the high collar of his white long-sleeved shirt and put on a crimson colored vest over it. The glass wall reflected his figure as he knotted the carmine straight tie around his neck.  
  
He owned a skin in a tone people of the surface would call light ochre. The Man of the Sky said it resembled more of the blush of the clouds when sunset set its first step into the dusk. While he had always thought he was blessed with the color of sea sands.  
  
He possessed hairs in a tint people of the surface would regard as shadowed ivory. The Man of the Sky told him it reflected more of the silvery light of the moon in its full form. But he had always thought he was graced with the color of sea foams.  
  
Because he had always belonged to the sea.  
  
The sea had closed its eyes for the day, opening the way for sunshine to shower its bright lights to every corner and crook of the city. Kai slipped his hands into a pair of white gloves, slinging his bag to his left shoulder, and walked down the stairs to the door.  
  
The city welcomed him as he stepped outside. Serenity was bold in the air as it always had been. The soft chatters of the winds and drops of remaining waters were the only sounds heard. The city was an exact echo of the one they had on the surface. The dissimilarity was made when the sea blew its breaths into it.  
  
Instead of cobblestones and pavements, the landscapes were covered with powdery sands. Different shades of seagrass and algae spread over the parks and hills. Anemones and sponges bloomed in the gardens in colors found in rainbows. Seaweeds and laminarias hung on some doors and windows like curtains. Corals and reefs sprouted and sat on the walls, stairs, pillars, roads, both in faint and vibrant colors.   
  
The sea had brushed every color it had in its palette into the city, and the summer shine had made each of it appeared even more vivid under its sparkles.  
  
Summers also brought more clocks than other seasons. Kai only needed to walk a few steps to find a new clock. They were scattered around in abundant numbers around the city. Some of it laid in the open, some hidden in the alleys or between the corals. Each of it reflecting the sunshine, winking as if telling him where to find them. If only his bag didn’t have an infinite space, he might have to drag every clock he found in a large net.  
  
The Man of the Sky said it was a contrary of what happened up there. It was winters that brought more clocks for him to collect. Maybe because people of the surface had the magnificent seascape scenery in summer to ease the pain they might encounter in the beginning of their departure, as they had the marvelous starry nights and auroras in winter for the same comfort.   
  
It was a guess he and The Man of the Sky had made a long time ago, and they still held on to that until now.  
  
Kai had only left his door for some steps he could still count, and he already retrieved quite a collection of clocks. Smile rested on his face along the way, not once wavering. Most of the clocks he found that day was larger than his hand, beautifully adorned, and relatively lack of dent or scratch, with most numbers completed.  
  
The souls that departed that day seemed to be the kind who embraced the journey to After with wide welcoming arms.  
  
But of course, there were also some clocks with different conditions than most, although it didn’t necessarily mean worth less. Take the one Kai had picked up from under the sea lilies as an example. The clock was in a size of Kai’s palm, crafted with simple yet enchanting ornaments. But the number where the hour hand pointed was unattached, fell to the bottom of the glass confine, and the minute hand was missing.   
  
No matter how many brilliant years bestowed upon people on the surface, happy ending wasn’t meant for everyone.  
  
Kai swept his fingers gently over the clock, holding it with two hands. He closed his eyes, silently wishing for the departed to have better times in the next life. Instead of his bag, he put the clock in his pocket. He smiled as he tucked it in, as if saying _‘you’re safe with me now’_.  
  
He looked up, and his eyes caught the tinkling of the clocks he had yet to fetch. His lips curved into a wider smile. As he brought his feet to walk towards another clock, another story to be unraveled, Kai sang the verses of what people on the surface titled as Song of the Sea:  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes one, the sea will bring someone for you to meet  
So wear your brightest smile, for you will never be alone again;"_  
  
  
Kai heard the ticking when the sun started to set.  
  
The wave came washing the sands earlier than usual, but Kai was distracted by the sound to question it. All clocks were supposed to stop ticking, as the borrowers no longer had any more time to breathe in. The ticking sound was faint, leisurely tag along the zephyr, but it beat in a steady rhytm.  
  
Kai followed the sound, and he ended up in front of a toy store.  
  
Just like every other building in the city, with the exception of his house, the toy store’s door was locked. Corals in colors ranging from yellow to blue grew like mushrooms on it, sealing any opening. The ticking sound continued. Kai slowly turned the doorknob, carefully pushing the door open without crumbling the corals.  
  
The entire room was dark, only pieces of bronze light of the sun illuminating it through the sills. Shelves by shelves arranged adjacently through the room, displaying dolls and figurines. Toy planes and birds were hanging from the ceiling. Balls and tricycles sprawled silently on the aisles. Kai walked in cautious steps, trying not to make any sound.  
  
The ticking sounded louder now, clearer. Kai arrived in front of a tall stack of cardboard boxes, where he figured the sound came from. He pushed the boxes aside one by one, until he found the clock.  
  
It was held in the hands of a living boy.  
  
The boy was only one or two cerith shells shorter than him. His skin was fair as pearls. His hair was as dark as the night sky while the stars seemed to be trapped in his eyes.  
  
As pleasant as he was to look at, he was not supposed to be here.  
  
No one was.  
  
“Who are you?”  
  
“Sehun.”  
  
The boy answered without a pause, no confusion nor hesitation showed as he spoke the name.  
  
“And how did you come here?”  
  
Now the question quieted him. Oblivion and unknowing swam distinctly in his irises.  
  
“You don’t know.”  
  
Kai answered it for him, as it was obvious. The boy nodded.  
  
Kai wasn’t sure who should be more bewildered. He was the only one who meant to live in the sea. He had always been alone, and he was supposed to stay that way. He had never met anyone else other than The Man of the Sky, in some rare days that they decided to gather on the horizon.  
  
But the boy was something else.  
  
Kai had witnessed the way his chest rose and fell at every breath, he had listened to the steady thumps of his heartbeats.  
  
He was from the surface.  
  
Everyone of his kind could only stay in Before or After.  
  
No one should linger in Between.  
  
“How long have you been here?”  
  
“Only for a little while,” he said, hugging the ticking clock in his arms, “I haven’t opened my eyes for long before I saw you.”  
  
Kai turned his gaze at the clock. Apparently, besides the constant ticking, the clock had another singularity Kai had never found in any clock before. The clock had no numbers at all. Only the hour and minute hand, which already went a little distance from the top of the face, where twelve should have been.  
  
Kai looked at the boy again, who had been staring at him also. People of the surface might use the term _‘lost’_ to describe everything about him, from the way his eyes formed wordless questions to his doubtful and wary gestures. But for Kai, he looked more like he had submerged himself into the sea. Like he didn’t arrive there without any reason.  
  
Or was it the sea who invited the boy?  
  
“Do I have to leave?”  
  
The boy asked, uncertainty and disquietude stuttered in his voice.  
  
“No.”  
  
Kai knew the answer as he held out his hand at him.  
  
“I’ve found you.”  
  
The sea had already stretched their arms out as Kai led Sehun out of the toy store, the tides tickling his ankles. He walked the same path he came from, with Sehun’s hand secured in his. Kai carefully adjusted his steps so Sehun could walk right beside him instead of trailing behind.  
  
Sehun was there in the city, among the clocks, with his own laid in his hands when he arrived. So just as what he had always done to every clock he found, he’d bring Sehun back with him. He would unwind his story.  
  
Or write one.  
  
The sea quickened its pace up the city as they reached his house, leaving a small pool of water trapped in the space between the door and the stairs. Sehun looked around the house in awe, eyes widened and mouth agape. He stopped walking as they stepped into the Library. Sparks of wonderments lit up in his eyes as he watched the sea slowly rose up and up the glass wall, mantling the entire city with its depth.   
  
The next question he asked was voiced out with more fascination than curiosity.  
  
“What is this place?”  
  
Kai could feel a smile arose on his lips.  
  
“Home.”  
  
That day, number one appeared on Sehun’s clock, just as a crack on the glass wall.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes two, the sea will read you a story  
So sit and listen, for it might be a beginning of your own tale;"_  
  
  
Morning came early again, and Sehun wanted to follow Kai collecting the clocks.  
  
Kai put his own tie on Sehun’s neck, winding and knotting it to resemble a sailor tie. Sehun was gleeful and said it made him feel like his apprentice. However, he let his feet bare. He followed Kai outside without hesitation, but Kai couldn’t keep him right beside him as Sehun would stop to bury his toes in the sands every few steps.   
  
He said he liked the texture. He said he had never felt it before. He said he had only known the touch of waters.  
  
“I had always been surrounded by water, as far as I can remember.”  
  
Sehun had said, when Kai decided to take a few minutes of break to let Sehun play with the sands. He giggled as Kai poured the warm grains to his feet.  
  
“I remember a feeling of touches. It didn’t really collide with my skin, but I could clearly feel the warmth of it. As if I were blanketed in an invisible cloth.”  
  
Sehun wriggled his toes as Kai drizzled another handful of sands on his feet.  
  
“I also remember a hum, a lullaby being sung for me. It sounded so close yet so far, like it was there in my reach but I couldn’t quite grasp it.”  
  
Sehun buried Kai’s feet with a mold of sands, saying it’s a cliff and he built a small sandcastle on top of it. He added a few clam shells, claiming it as the doors and windows.  
  
“I wonder if I had actually been here the whole time, only hidden behind the fingers of the sea. Maybe the sea wanted to give you a surprise, a gift. A company. Was it your birthday yesterday?”  
  
Kai chuckled, the wind caught the sound of it and peppered it around the city.  
  
“I don’t have a birthday.”  
  
“But everyone has to have a birthday.”  
  
“Then you can think of yesterday as my birthday.”  
  
Sehun had completed the sand castle to its bridges, towers, and machicolations. He caught a tiny waddling red crab and put it on the top of the castle. He called it the king of the castle. Kai laughed, and Sehun beamed.  
  
“Then it’s my birthday, too. Since it was when I awakened.”  
  
And because he was the gift, he added, holding on to his theory of his arrival.  
  
That day, number two appeared in Sehun’s clock, as some corals broke and crumbled down like maple leaves in autumn.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes three, the sea will introduce you to tides and waves  
So open your arms to welcome them, for even though each might look different, they are all brothers;"_  
  
  
Kai missed the sunrise again, and Sehun decided he’d help him finding the clocks.  
  
Kai only had one bag, so he made one for Sehun from a rattan basket and a pair of straps to attach it on his back. It didn’t have infinite space, and it also made Sehun somehow looked like a tortoise. He earned a pout following a punch on the arm as he said it, but it had became too easy for him to gain Sehun’s smile back, even only with a pinch on the nose.  
  
And Sehun’s smile managed to make his own bag felt nearly full.  
  
“Why is every clock different?”  
  
Sehun had asked, when they reached the garden full of glowing plumose anemones. There were quite a lot of clocks lied among it, Sehun had had his basket filled with a dozen of it before the question floated.  
  
“That’s because everyone uses their borrowed time differently.”  
  
Kai took out a few clocks from his bag, and put it between them as they sat down in the middle of the field of anemones. Their knees met in fleeting touches.  
  
“You see, some clocks are big, some are small. It depends on how many adventures they emboldened themselves into, how wide their heart expanded with understanding and forbearance they gained from it. Some clocks have intricate shapes and carvings, some have simple and decent ones. It depends on how wise they grew to be, how vast the room of their mind broadened with knowledges and experiences through the years.”  
  
Kai picked two of the clocks and held it in his palms. He cradled it with equal gentleness, like one didn’t worth less than the other.   
  
“Some clocks are mostly unscathed, some are marred. It showed how much pain they had to endure and withstand. But as you can see, each of it still shines, albeit in different glint. Because both happiness and sorrow would bring a different kind of strength.”  
  
Sehun reached out to the clocks spread between them, caressing each of it carefully, as if comforting the borrowers, saying _‘you’ve done well’_.  
  
“Some clocks have complete numbers from one to twelve, some don’t. It shows whether they had found their purpose in life.”  
  
Sehun stared at the clocks, and gazed away at the ones still waiting to be picked up around the garden. There were no clocks completely similar. No clock completely unscarred either.   
  
“Then is there a perfect clock?”  
  
Kai smiled, picking up the clocks and keep it back in his bag one by one.  
  
“No one but the borrower himself could decide that.”  
  
Sehun had just found a new clock not so far from where they were seated. It was full of deep scratches, but the size of the clock was almost as big as two pairs of their hands gathered, the frame traced with flowery strokes, and the numbers were complete. Kai helped Sehun picking it up, and Sehun took his time to hug it and look at its details before putting it in his basket.   
  
“Some clocks might look flawed, but the borrower might had found more reasons to be grateful than others could see. And they could depart with a contented heart, leaving no regret.”  
  
Kai adjusted the clock into a balanced position in Sehun’s basket. A few strands of frill from the anemone blown and landed on Sehun’s cheek. Kai brushed it away with his thumb.  
  
“And that, is one of many things that makes a clock seems perfect.”  
  
That day, number three appeared on Sehun’s clock, and the crack on the glass wall had gotten longer.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes four, the sea will give you a riddle  
So try your best to guess, for the answer might be one you’ve been looking for;"_  
  
  
The night was still engulfing them, and Sehun had a nightmare.  
  
“I hear voices.”  
  
Sehun had said difficultly between his sobs. His body was shivering, tremors visible even to the tip of his fingers. There were stains of tears streaking down his cheeks.  
  
“It said sorry. Sorry. _Sorry_. Over and over again.”  
  
Kai had his arms encircling Sehun’s petite body, hand caressing his back up and down slowly. His lips softly pressed to Sehun’s ear, whispering words of comfort. Sehun clutched his shirt as he buried his face in his chest.   
  
“And suddenly the air seemed to be evaporated, vanished. It suffocated me, even though I had been able to breathe in the water all the time before.”  
  
Kai tightened his embrace as Sehun stammered in a cracked voice.  
  
“And then it was all dark. There was nothing left. There was no me.”  
  
Another tear trickled down Sehun’s cheek, and Kai kissed it away.  
  
“Shh, Sehun. It’s okay now. You’re here. You’re here with me.”  
  
Kai brought Sehun to sleep with him. The bed wasn’t meant for two, but it didn’t matter for Sehun because Kai held him so close to him, seeding warmth into his skin on every flit of his fingers, tracing from his eyes to his jaw, his neck to his shoulder, his back to his waist.  
  
Sehun was lulled back into sleep with his face rested on Kai’s chest, right on his ribcage.  
  
Instead of breaths, Sehun heard soft whispers of the wind over the shore.  
  
Instead of heartbeats, Sehun heard a rhyme of waves greeting the coast.  
  
Kai was an ocean. And Sehun let himself drowned in it.  
  
That day, number four appeared on Sehun’s clock, and a soundless sign of maelstorm betided deep under the sea.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes five, the sea will call you to play  
So raise up to your feet and reply to it, for the sea only gives name to the ones he loves;"_  
  
  
Morning came a little bit too quickly, and Sehun said he’d like to change Kai’s name.  
  
Sehun said his name was too unfamiliar, and he had quite a difficulty pronouncing it, even though it has no letter S to challenge his lisp. He said a name of people of the surface might be nice.  
  
“’Jongin’ would suit you better.”  
  
Sehun had suggested, as they laid on the seagrasses. Sehun had decided Kai’s stomach felt better than his pillow and laid his head there. They made shapes out of the moving clouds far above. Sehun said _‘rabbit’_ to most of it.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Kai brushed away stranded strands of hair from Sehun’s eyes, seeing the sky from the reflection of it.  
  
“Because your voice is soothing like the echo of a big bell on high turret. And because you’re the kindest person I have ever met.”   
  
A light tinge of scarlet peeked on Sehun’s cheek, Kai had the sudden urge to touch it. And he did.  
  
“I can’t remember the others I’ve met before, though. But I will never revise that label of you.”  
  
Kai laughed, and the color on Sehun’s cheek flourished.  
  
“That sounds like a beautiful name, but I don’t deserve it.”  
  
Sehun scowled.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I have never stepped a foot on the surface.”  
  
He ran his fingers between Sehun’s eyes, smoothing the crease formed as he frowned.  
  
“But I do like the way it sounds in your voice.”  
  
That day, number five appeared on Sehun’s clock, and the crack on the glass walls had spread its tendrils, further and further.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes six, the sea will deliver you a surprise  
So be patient and wait, for it might be a treasure you will want to keep forever;"_  
  
  
They met the sunrise, and Sehun asked why the sea is blue.  
  
They were collecting the clocks in a corner of the city with most water remained, dwelling in rows of marble pools. They sat on one edge of the biggest pool, starfishes dotting the bottom of it.  
  
“As what The Man of the Sky might also tell you, both the sea and the sky actually consists of many colors. And each of it carries a meaning with them.”  
  
Sehun dabbled his feet into the pool, letting the translucent water wetting his calves. Baby starfishes corraled between his toes, tickling him.  
  
“Red is hope, as it is the beginning of everything. Orange is courage, the thing hope will bring as one finally believes in it. Yellow is venture, as courage leads to all kinds of unexpected journey. Green is discovery, as journeys might surprise you with unforeseen destinations and meetings.”  
  
Sehun raised his feet high, then smashed it back down, splashing more water than he expected onto himself. Kai laughed to see Sehun soaked up to his head. Sehun shook his head to disperse the water from his hair, then kicked some more water right at Kai’s direction. Sehun guffawed louder as the assault stopping Kai’s laughter, droplets dripping from his hair and face. Kai reached out his hand to punish Sehun with a pinch on the cheek, but Sehun quickly got up to avoid it. _‘Try to catch me’_ , he said as he ran into the pool, voice jingling in joyful mischief.  
  
“Indigo is loss, as every meeting is written with a farewell at the end of the page. But farewells will grant you new beginnings. Not to start everything over, but to walk it through with a stronger heart than the last time. Violet is acceptance, as after all the things you went through to get there, you’ll be able to welcome the ending with open arms like an old friend. And you’ll know reasons to make you willing to give as much as you take.”  
  
Shaking his head and chuckled at Sehun’s antics, Kai stood up to chase him. Grinning so widely that canines came into sight, Sehun ran faster, he didn’t like ending a game so quickly. On the seventh step, Sehun’s foot slipped on a seaweed, and he fell backwards. Kai shouted his name and lunged himself forward, catching him before he hit the bottom of the pool. They both fell, Sehun on top of Kai, and they were both soaked from head to toe. Only a few seconds of them looking at each other, then their laughters wafted. And Kai forgot to pinch Sehun’s cheek.  
  
“But everyone could only see blue, because blue is love. It’s not as bright as red, and it’s not as dark as violet. It’s a mixture of the most delightful and harrowing feelings. It’s just like what people of the surface said; love is both bitter and sweet.”  
  
They stayed in the pool, the water encasing up to Sehun’s waist and Kai’s hip. Kai moulded two fistful of Sehun’s damp hair at each side of his head to mimic rabbit ears, while Sehun tried to braid Kai’s hair.  
  
Sehun took the biggest yellow starfish he could find and put it on top of Kai’s head.  
  
“Christmas tree!”  
  
Sehun smiled, a new constellation of stars born in his eyes every time he did.  
  
Kai scooped tiny starfishes, red ones, and a few kalanchoe leaves. He arranged them on the crown of Sehun’s head. Red starfishes sat side by side in the middle, kalanchoe leaves circling around it.  
  
“Mistletoe.”  
  
There was a moment of infinity when they closed their eyes and their lips met. The only things that seemed to exist were the slow waltz of their mouths, the rhyme of their breaths, their pressed chests, Sehun’s shy grip on Kai’s back and Kai’s daring hold on Sehun’s nape.   
  
They broke the chain of touches with each other’s name tumbling off their softly trembling lips.  
  
Sehun could only taste sweetness from everything that is Kai.  
  
Does it mean it wasn’t love?  
  
That day, number six appeared on Sehun’s clock, and seagrasses turned dark and dry, dissolving into dusts as the wind passed by.


	2. undertows

_"When the clock strikes seven, the sea will grant you a wish  
So be careful of what you want, for the sea won’t tell when it will come true;"_  
  
  
They woke up far before the morning did, and Sehun challenged him in a race.  
  
“Who collect most clocks by the end of the day wins!”  
  
Sehun shouted _‘ready, set, go!’_ as they opened the door. Kai chuckled as Sehun ran ahead of him, his new and bigger basket bouncing on his back. He walked with leisure steps, he caught the sight of twinkles of lights reflected on the clocks even without him trying.  
  
Sehun busily hopped from one place to another, taking every clock came in his way. His endearing determination brought smile on Kai’s face. He didn’t even stop to play sands with his bare feet or greet passing hermit crabs as he usually did. Kai chose to take another way so he wouldn’t take any clock that came into Sehun’s sight.  
  
But being a Retriever that he was, Kai easily collected most of the clocks when the sunshine began to ebb away.  
  
He thought it would be fun to claim his victory and tease Sehun for his loss, for Sehun puffing his cheeks and sulking was just as appealing as his chortle.  
  
But it changed when he witnessed how Sehun’s basket was already so full that his back bent and his legs quivering with the weight, yet he still tried to find more.  
  
He secretly went back home to put most of the clocks he retrieved in the Chamber of Chants, before going back again to where Sehun was.  
  
The race ended when the city had turned bronze, and they counted the clocks they had gotten. Sehun had three more clocks than him.  
  
“I win!”  
  
Sehun threw his arms high in the air in celebration. He leaned backwards to lay himself on the floor of the Library, laughing heartily. His laughter gradually turned into a series of exhausted but contented breaths. His eyes started to flutter close. Kai smiled and stroked Sehun’s hair, delivering him to sleep.  
  
“What do you want for the prize?”   
  
Sehun answered before he closed his eyes.  
  
“A promise.”  
  
That day, number seven appeared on Sehun’s clock, and the crack had spread nearly the length of an arm.   
  
And Kai finally saw it.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes eight, the sea will whisper you a secret  
So always remember it, for it might be one about yourself;"_  
  
  
They woke up in each other’s arms that morning, and Sehun had the idea to play hide and seek.  
  
Sehun loved to run, so Kai naturally took the role of the seeker. Sehun ran out of the door at the same speed he did the day before, barefoot as always. Kai counted until 412 before he started looking for Sehun.  
  
Finding things had been his metier for a time immeasurable by the way of people of the surface, and he arrived at Sehun’s hiding without much struggle.   
  
It was a small cave woven by foliages of water hawthorn and watercress. Kai bent his back to peek into the cave, wearing a triumphant smile.  
  
“Found you.”  
  
But Sehun didn’t return his smile. Not with a laughter nor whine.  
  
He sat with his legs folded to his chest. In his hands was a tiny clock, and he was looking at it with a doleful expression. Kai crawled to sit right beside him, shoulder touching Sehun’s.  
  
“I wonder if it’s a clock of a child.”  
  
The clock was the smallest Sehun had ever seen, it didn’t fill even half his palm. It looked delicate and fragile.  
  
“How unfortunate it is to have such short life.”  
  
Sehun cradled the clock with mournful tenderness. The usual scintillating light Kai had always been admired in his eyes seemed to dim. Gently, he rested his chin on Sehun’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s not merely the length of the time that matters.”  
  
He reached out both arms to encircle Sehun, hugging him from behind. His fingers entwined with Sehun’s, holding the clock together.  
  
“Look, the clock is small, but the numbers are complete. Even though his time might have been ephemeral, he was loved.”  
  
Sehun rested his head back to the space between Kai’s jawline and shoulder. His voice was as soft as the way he held the clock in his hand, as if not to wake a sleeping child.  
  
“Can I believe that he really was?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“But then, does it mean I’m not loved?”  
  
There was loneliness sneaking into Sehun’s words. They both remembered how Sehun’s clock had no number the moment he arrived.  
  
Kai pulled Sehun deeper into his embrace, drawing a line of feathery kisses along the side of his face.   
  
“Didn’t you say you are a gift sent for me? That’s why your clock was empty. It is to be drawn by me. Number by number.”  
  
Kai caught Sehun’s chin with his fingers, tilting his face towards him. He whispered vows through the seam of Sehun’s lips.  
  
“And Sehun, I will give you all the love that you need.”  
  
That day, number eight appeared on Sehun’s clock, and the sea awakened late, leaving the city cold with no light and water to blanket it.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes nine, the sea will sing you a lullaby  
So lay your head down, for the sea will accompany you until you fall asleep;"_  
  
  
Night disappeared faster than it had ever been, and Sehun had made a song.  
  
He brought home a small harpsichord he took from the toy store. It was in a size of the spread of Sehun’s both hands. Sehun placed it on the floor beside the chair where Kai seated himself, sitting in front of it with his legs crossed.   
  
“Welcome to Sehun’s recital!”  
  
Kai had adjusted his chair to face Sehun, who promptly stood up to bow solemnly as he clapped his hands at the introduction. Sehun sat back down, flipping the tails of the oversized coat. Sehun wore it over his pajama shirt, his legs covered in knee-length pants, a pair of white socks warming his feet. A few minutes earlier when Kai attached a bow tie to his neck, Sehun asked if he had already looked like a maestro. Kai said yes.  
  
Sehun straightened his back to form the proper manner of a pianist. He gave a glance and a smile for the prelude.   
  
“Title of the song: Of us.”  
  
Sehun sailed his fingers on the keys, and clear chiming notes floated from the harpsichord.  
  
The song was nothing like the one the clocks would sing when the sea came to deliver their story through seconds it ticked back. But Kai could imagine pictures of moments depicted in every verse and refrain Sehun played, as easy as flipping through the pages of a fairytale book.  
  
The song started in larghissimo, the notes played slowly one after another, like walking on stepping stones. And Kai saw him following the faint tickings, leading him to find Sehun.   
  
The song flowed into adagio, the notes drizzling unrushedly. And Kai saw them walk together around the city, he took his time to get himself used to the new company by his side. And it didn’t take too long.   
  
The song walked in andante, the notes ambling at a relaxed pace. And Kai saw how he grew a habit to look at Sehun every few minutes, learning meanings in Sehun’s smile and laugh and the effect it had on him.  
  
The song burst into allegro, the notes cascading like a waterfall. And Kai knew it was how his heart would have beat when he had Sehun in his arms, his lips on Sehun’s, and colors seemed to have condensed into a single being that is Sehun.   
  
The song sprang into vivace, the notes bouncing merrily. And Kai remembered the way Sehun’s eyes gleamed in blithe when he won a promise from him. When Sehun fell asleep under his caresses, he swore to himself that he would grant anything Sehun wished him to do.  
  
The song dashed in prestissimo, the notes pouring like a torrent of downpour. And Kai realized it was how days seemed to pass with Sehun, so fast yet it felt like it had been going for forever. Like it had always been the two of them in the sea from the very beginning.   
  
The song slowed down with rallentando, the notes flitting gracefully into an ending. Just like how they would return to their home at the end of the day, tangling their bodies under the warm blanket on Kai’s bed.  
  
“Beautiful.”  
  
When the song finished, Sehun took a place on Kai’s lap. Three words uttered voicelessly in every brush of lips and stroke of fingers.  
  
For the first time, Kai wondered, how nice it would be to have a clock on his own. How nice it would be if they had lives on the surface. If they had times in Before.  
  
Kai was sure his clock would be filled with Sehun’s name in most stories of it, as he wished Sehun’s clock would be with his.  
  
That day, number nine appeared on Sehun’s clock, and the crack on the glass wall had deepened, a telltale of what might occur.   
  
If Kai didn’t find the answer soon.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes ten, the sea will tell you a confession  
So never miss a word, for it might be the truth you’ve been yearning to know;"_  
  
  
Morning greeted somberly, and Kai just remembered something he had forgotten.  
  
There was still one clock hadn’t been placed in the Chamber of Chants. It was the small clock with a broken number and hand he found in the morning on the day Sehun arrived.   
  
It was still sheated in his pocket, and Kai took it to bring it to where it should have been. He walked out of his bedroom in silent steps, not wanting to wake Sehun.   
  
The Chamber of Chants was filled with resonating hums of serenade from the clock. The ticking stories would only be heard so vividly when the sea came to hug them. Kai put the clock carefully in one of the highest stalls in the room, in hope its story would be afloat sooner.  
  
Kai was on his way to leave the room, when a name he knew resounded as the clock began to tick back.  
  
“Sehun, I can’t wait to meet you.”  
  
A voice of a woman, gentle and loving like sunshine every time morning came.  
  
Kai stood there in front of the clock, hearing every story being revealed, Sehun’s name flew through each line of it.  
  
“When you turn one, you might want to start befriending the nature. I will carry you to my favorite park, where the leaves wear different color to dress themselves every season. It was where I met your father for the first time.”  
  
“When you turn two, you might already walk on your own, and your father and I will hold your hands along every path you want to explore into.”  
  
“When you turn three, you might have learned your first word, and your father and I will shower you with many words of love so you’ll know how to voice your affection.”  
  
“When you turn four, you might begin having wishes and hopes of your own, and if you’ll be a good boy, your father and I will tuck presents under your pillow and in the big socks you’ll hang on the fireplace.”  
  
The story went on to every year after, told in a peaceful pace and in a lilt of a storyteller. Of Sehun’s first struggle to read, of his first try riding a bicycle, of his first day of school, of many following years spent with and accompanied by friends he made. Every passage ended with a promise of ‘your father and I’, of how they would always be there for him nevertheless.  
  
“When you turn fifteen, you might have developed opinions on your own, and you’ll start ignoring what we think is best for you. But that’s okay. Your father and I will hug you when you make a right choice, and we will still hug you when you make a mistake.”  
  
“When you turn sixteen, you might embark in your chase of dreams, and your father and I will never stop cheering for you, with arms always opened for you to lean into every time you’re tired and feeling like giving up.”  
  
“When you turn seventeen, you might have grown as tall as your father, and you’ll look just as charming as him. I will probably start to feel jealous of every friend you prefer to be with on some holidays, but you’ll always love me the most, right?”  
  
“When you turn eighteen, you might have chosen someone to stay with forever, one who would complete you the way we couldn’t. And your father and I will give you our blessing, as your happiness is our happiness.”  
  
Kai felt immense warmth sprang forth in his chest, it grew bigger and bigger at every line being cited. He waited for another imagery of Sehun’s life being elicited, but it never came. A long pause stretched out after the last line, like a poem being left unfinished, letting the rhyme hang.  
  
When the voice finally came again, it was in a cry.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sehun.”  
  
The voice shattered into despair and lament. Coldness abruptly crowded the room behind his ribcage.  
  
“He lied. He broke his promise.”  
  
Strings of sobs pushed its way between every word. It clawed invisible scars inside of him.  
  
“Your father left. He left me. He left us.”  
  
The voice was getting softer and softer, but the anguish in it was becoming so shrill, numbing his senses. Other sounds around him seemed to be drowned in the cacophony of misery.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sehun.”  
  
He wanted to stop it.  
  
He wanted to stop her.   
  
But there was nothing he could do, but to hear the haunting echo of unceasing apologies.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
_“I’m sorry.”_  
  
There was a sound of waves hitting the shore.  
  
Then silence.  
  
That day, number ten appeared on Sehun’s clock, and Kai couldn’t hear any song in the sea. He couldn’t see any light. It was dark and silent.  
  
As if the sea had had its soul being seized away.  
  
  
  
_  
"When the clock strikes eleven, the sea will knock on your window  
So open the curtain, for the sea comes to pick you up;"_  
  
  
“Sehun, you’re an unborn.”  
  
Kai couldn’t find the right time to tell Sehun. It kept replayed and replayed in his head, the voices and the sounds getting louder and louder every time, urging him to spill it there and then. Sehun’s radiant smile and jovial chirps of laughter always stopped himself from telling. He didn’t want to hurt Sehun.  
  
But the truth escaped his lips when they shared the most serene time of the day. Sehun was playing the song with one hand, another one entangled in Kai’s fingers. Every note of the song brought enormous pain to Kai, knowing that the moments written into the melody weren’t suppose to be there in the first place.  
  
And once he began, words after words pouring down from him like unstoppable streams.  
  
Your mother killed herself in the sea.  
  
While you were still inside her.  
  
“No, that is not true.”  
  
It is, Sehun.  
  
It might be only a few hours or minutes before you came to life. Your time had already on the way to be lent to you, when it’s being thrown away even before you could reach it. You born and died in the sea. The flow of your time was disturbed, ruined. That’s why you’re here. In Between. Because you didn’t have a place in Before, but you lost on your way to After.  
  
“No, that is not true! If I’m an unborn, why do I exist? Why do I have this body?”  
  
Because your mother had pictured years of your life. Her hope shaped you this way.  
  
“No, that is not true. Please tell me that is not true. I’m a gift sent for you.”  
  
The song had long forgotten, being cut in the middle right before it entered the part Kai adored the most. The part with the moment that made Kai finally able to name the feeling he had towards Sehun.  
  
“No, Sehun. You’re not supposed to be here.”  
  
The words he then said hurt him like a rain of shards.  
  
“You have to go.”  
  
Because the sea had gone haywire, too. It had been telling you to leave.  
  
“Let me stay.”  
  
“I can’t, Sehun. You can’t stay.”  
  
“Let me stay, please. Please let me stay here with you. I want to stay here with you.”  
  
“You can’t, Sehun. You can’t stay here. Here is not where you belong.”  
  
“Don’t you want me to stay?”  
  
_I do.  
  
I do, Sehun.  
  
You are everything I have ever wished to keep._  
  
But he didn’t say those words out loud.  
  
He choked it back, leaving silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.  
  
Sehun didn’t cry.  
  
Not a single tear fell on his cheek.  
  
But every star in Sehun’s eyes had perished. Leaving an abyss of hopelessness and agony.  
  
Never once in his life had Kai felt such pain.  
  
Number eleven appeared on Sehun’s clock, and it’s time to say goodbye.  
  
The glass wall shattered with tumultuous sound, the force shook the entire room. Water gushed in unforgiving strength and speed, threatening to swallow anything came in its way.  
  
Kai grabbed Sehun’s hand and bolted to the door, escaping the rage of the sea. Sehun snatched his clock as he ran passed it, right before a wave rolled and gulped down the table he had placed it on earlier.  
  
Kai dragged Sehun through doors and corridors, never once looking back or slowed down. The relentless wave coiled behind them in thundering rumble, aiming its arms right at their feet. Kai ran faster, hand gripping on Sehun’s wrist tighter.  
  
Sehun wasn’t meant to live in the sea. He wouldn’t be able to breathe surrounded by water. He would be drowned. He would be evanesced.  
  
Kai didn’t want to create more nightmare for Sehun.  
  
They avoided the grip of the waves as they turned to the glass corridor connecting parts of the house. The sea followed them closely, insistently, and Kai forced his legs to move faster, faster, _faster_. Sehun panted heavily behind him, nearly stumbled down.  
  
“A little bit more, Sehun, just a little bit more.”  
  
But when he had only just stepped a foot in the room at the end of the corridor, the glass beneath them broke down, plummeting them right into the depth of the sea. The currents hit them mercilessly. Kai lost his grip on Sehun’s hand, the whirl of stream took Sehun away from him, further and further away from his reach.  
  
He saw Sehun choked, strangled by the thick water confining him. He struggled to breathe, his arms and legs moved frantically. His eyes filled with loud fear. He screamed in a muted voice.  
  
Kai. _Kai._  
  
Kai pushed himself against the strong currents, making his way to Sehun. With his legs being held back by the hurtling undertow, he reached his arms towards Sehun.  
  
He caught Sehun’s hand as Sehun lost his clock.  
  
  
  
  
_"When the clock strikes twelve, the sea will hold your hand  
So prepare your heart, for the sea will lead you to where everyone is waiting for you;"_  
  
  
“Sehun, wake up.”  
  
Sehun opened his eyes. He was on a boat. And Kai was there, holding the hand he had reached under the sea.   
  
Sehun sat up, he was dry and painless, leaves and petals in various shapes and colors trickling down from his hair and face, adding to the pile covering the bottom of the boat.  
  
He looked around. The boat was afloat, the water beneath them was unrippled. The water stretched out to infinity, as if they were on a sea with no end or shore.   
  
He looked up. The sky was hanging so low until the cloud seemed to float on the water. He felt like he could actually touch the sky if he lifted his hand. The sky was wearing a gradient of all colors that ever existed, reflected by the silent sea under them like a giant mirror.  
  
There was no sound in the air, not even a blow of wind, or echoes of birds. The silence was tranquil, like a hushed lullaby inviting him into a deep sleep.  
  
“Where are we?”  
  
Kai smiled, taking his other hand into his hold.  
  
“You’re on your way to After.”  
  
Kai was there with him, sitting on the boat right in front of him. His skin, hair, eyes were exactly like he had always remembered it to be. But there was something different in the way he held his hand, in the touch.  
  
It felt too light, too distant.   
  
As if he was a fata morgana soon vanished once he closed his eyes.  
  
And he said _‘you’_.  
  
Not _‘we’_.  
  
“You’re not coming with me.”  
  
Kai smiled, thousand unspoken words written in the way he gazed at Sehun. His eyes were black, but it seemed to convey all colors of the sea, from red to violet. Blue spoke the loudest.  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
He ran his thumbs over the ridge of Sehun’s knuckles, before bringing it to his lips to plant a chaste kiss.  
  
“I have always belonged to the sea.”  
  
His kiss was so soft that Sehun wasn’t sure if it was really there or not. And his presence seemed to fade away slowly. Sehun could barely catch the line of his figure.  
  
He reached out his arms and leaned in for a hug, fingers clinging to the faint feeling of warmth still remained.  
  
“Kai, you owe me a promise.”  
  
Kai pulled Sehun closer to him, hands rested at his shoulder and waist, lips leaving trails of kisses from the top of his head to the side of his face, then rested at his ears. The feeling lingered.  
  
“Anything, Sehun.”  
  
Sehun could hear the sound of waves and winds from within Kai. It seemed so far away. Sehun wanted to listen to it forever.  
  
“Promise me we’ll meet again someday.”  
  
Sehun could feel Kai smiled, and soundless ripples started to arise around the boat.  
  
“I promise.”  
  
The boat started to move, and Kai disappeared into a scatter of songs, flying back to where it belonged.  
  
Number twelve appeared on Sehun’s clock, and he left it in the sea.


	3. shores

Sehun is six years old. And he is crying.   
  
He fell from his bike. His knees are bleeding. The training wheels are bent and dented. He wants to go home. But he can’t walk. And he is afraid his daddy and mommy will get angry at him for breaking the bicycle they have just bought for him for his birthday.  
  
He is sitting on the beach, hands covering his eyes as he sobs. Sands scratch his elbows and legs. Waves wetting his shoes and socks as it comes ashore. His breaths hitched as tears keep trailing down his reddened cheeks.  
  
There is a boy coming out of nowhere.  
  
He stands a few feet in front of him. His legs drowned in the water up to his knees.  
  
He is about the same age with Sehun. His hair is white. With a little shade of gray. His skin is beige.   
  
The boy is staring at Sehun while he cries. Then he bends down to scoop something from the water.   
  
He runs to Sehun, and puts a handful of seashells on his lap. There are so many colors. Red, orange, yellow.  
  
The boy runs back to the sea again, and comes with his arms full of starfish, pouring it on Sehun’s lap. It’s like a big family of starfish, there are small ones and big ones. Some are so tiny like babies.  
  
He runs back to the sea again, this time he brings clams and sea urchins, he spills it on Sehun’s lap again.  
  
Now Sehun’s legs are buried with the things the boy brought for him from the sea. And he has stopped crying.  
  
But the boy doesn’t seem to be satisfied.  
  
He runs again to the sea, further this time. His hands are full with sparkling pebbles. It’s sea glasses. Violet. Indigo. Green.  
  
Blue.  
  
The boy sits in front of him. He tangles the sea glasses to Sehun’s hair. Against his dark hair, the sea glasses look like stars.  
  
He has brought both the sea and the sky for Sehun.  
  
Sehun smiles. The boy stares at Sehun for a while. Then he smiles back.   
  
His smile reminds Sehun of sunrise.  
  
“What’s your name?”  
  
The boy opens his mouth to answer. But there is no voice coming out. He is quiet for a while, then he holds out his hand, asking for Sehun’s.  
  
Sehun gives his hand. The boy takes it and writes a name with his finger on his palm.

  
  
_“Jongin.”_


End file.
